It may just be my age, but I am brought to tears easily these days. When something touches my heart or seems to hit the nail on the head in telling the truth, the tears just flow. I love being older.
I absolutely adore the wisdom that is available at this age, if only I open my eyes, ears and heart to take it all in. Life lessons can come in many packages, and some are gift wrapped with a big red blow.
Most days I am filled with a deep sense of gratitude for it all. The blessings and the uphill battles.
It is all fodder for strength, fuel for the fire, muscle-building exercises that stimulate me to stretch and find out who I really am. And I am all about growing and soaking in who I really am and who He means for me to be. What He has for me to learn. And today is a day of learnings, filled to the brim...overflowing.
Today is Mother's day. Today small children may be gripping pencils and carving messages on paper and into their mother's hearts...messages so dear, so simple that they are "keepers," reminders to revisit when things get tough. Messages from the purest souls. I love you Mommy! You're a good Mommy!
Adolescent children may, with some small sense of obligation, be looking for cards. Trying to find a message that fits their own individuation while simultaneously expressing a caring that goes deep into their bones. Older children, who are now parents themselves, may be nodding with a new sense of understanding and are looking for deeper messages as they are starting to "get" what it really means to be a Mommy... the mighty force, the constant vigilance, the love that knows no bounds. The job description no one tells you about when you first hold that sweet baby in your arms.
Mother's day is joyous for some and deeply anguishing for others. Yesterday I spent time calling some of my soul sisters whose Moms have gone "home". Today, for them, is a mix of memories, some laced with abundant joy, others entwined with wistfulness and loss. Words unspoken... I wish I could tell her how glad I am she was my Mom.
Other Moms have lost a child and the hole in their heart seems to never fully heal. It.is.just.there.
Each child has your heart and part of their heart is missing. Other women have longed to be Moms.
It didn't work out for a multitude of reasons. Or they may have lost babies with a miscarriage. They were a Mommy for an instant, but that child is still theirs, an ever present ache. They are still a Mommy, longing for someone who cares enough to listen to their story. Other mothers are estranged from their children or there is an uneasiness and lack of comfort in the relationships that strains
their hearts. A palpable tension between Mommy and child. This day may be full of "I wish I had", "I wish I could go back and do it over" moments.
Mother's Day isn't as simple as a Hallmark card might lead you to believe.
I often think about Mary, the Mother of Jesus on Mother's Day. I imagine what it was like for her
to hear the news she was with child, to know that Joseph might leave her, to undergo scrutiny and stares that as an unmarried young woman, she was pregnant. I often wonder about her journey on a donkey and giving birth in a stable, being homeless. I often wonder what it must have been like to raise Jesus, mentor Jesus, make meals for Jesus, worry about Jesus. I wonder what it was like when she started to see His holy gifts be revealed, the pride she had, the wonder that overtook her on occasion. I wonder what it felt like to hear His lessons and see His disciples do acts of mercy.
* I wonder what it was like for Mary when she saw her son care for the unlovable, the outcasts,
and spread messages so deep, so profound that you could see God the Father through His words.
* I wonder what it was like for Mary to see her son persecuted and misunderstood, carrying a cross through the streets with thorns dug into his head, the same head she had kissed so tenderly.
* I wonder what it was like for Mary to see Him on a cross, nails through the same hands and feet she had gently caressed when Jesus was a small and tender infant.
* I wonder what it was like for Mary to hear the words of her son, asking his disciple, to take care of His mother. Even then, from a cross dying, Jesus knew His mother needed caring for. That her heart was breaking at the loss of her child.
* I have always wondered what it was like for Mary to be a Mommy.
I love the prayer that starts with...
"Hail Mary, full of grace
The Lord is with thee..."
She was grace personified. Grace in action. Strong, mighty, amazing, enduring grace.
Mary, a Mommy behind the scenes.
Mary who loved Jesus with all her heart and soul.
Mary knew what it meant to be a Mommy and feel profound grief at the loss of her child.
Today is Mother's Day. And just as Jesus loved his Mommy, Mary, I am touched beyond words to see another son reach out and care for the Mommy who raised him. A Mommy who was young and pregnant and alone and homeless and poor economically.
This son's name is Kevin Durant. Yes, Kevin Durant the basketball player for Oklahoma.
The Kevin Durant who used to play for the Seattle Super Sonics. The Kevin Durant, if you follow
sports, who just became the MVP for pro basketball. His message to his Mommy, in some small way,
reminds me of how Jesus may have felt toward Mary. His message has gone viral and Moms all over are wheeping at his touching words...at the acknowledgement of the sacrifice his Mommy made for him.
DO NOT MISS THIS...It is a soul-restorer!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=jrL-LYJ9afQ
To all the strong, mighty, wonderful, unselfish, caring, ever-loving, diligent,
hard-working Mommas who read this-
God Bless You!
Have a great Mother's day!
Linda
Sunday, May 11, 2014
Monday, May 05, 2014
Mother's Day Is Around the Corner...a Letter to My Daughters
Making the decision to have a child is momentous. It is to decide to have your heart walking around outside your body.
-Elizabeth Stone
A Letter to My Daughters Who Have Children of Their Own:
Dearest Jessi and Amy,
I have barely touched the keyboard of this computer and already tears are streaming down my face.
I am sitting here with my first cup of coffee, listening to the rain fall. Mother's day is almost here. It is right around the corner, and I want to write you a letter. There is so much I want you to know. So much I want to share from my heart-of-hearts. It's all about my Mommy, being your Mommy, and watching the two of you be a mommy to my precious grandbabies.
Just the thought of Mother's Day, without having my own Mom here, leaves me being one.hot.mess.
I can't imagine not hearing her voice ever again or listening to her wisdom. Or knowing that she has my back, no matter what. I miss her every day. I never knew that when she was gone, the hole that was left would seem impossible for anyone else to fill.
I had no idea, since she and I were so different, that I would miss every "different" thing about her that used to make me so irritated at times that I thought my head would surely spin off.
She and I didn't always have an easy or comfortable relationship, but every single day I knew that she loved me more than anything else in the world. How she expressed it wasn't always my love language, but we didn't even know what "love languages' were back then. She carried her mottled copy of Dr. Spock's Guide to Raising Children everywhere. He was the wisdom in her corner when all else failed. So even though from time to time we missed each other as meanings flew by and connections sometimes weren't made, we both tried. We were "cut out of different cloth," she and I.
Yet, in spite of every difference...she was my anchor, my supporter, the one I would call when everything fell apart. She found it difficult to share emotions and I was usually a puddle of every emotion conceivable.
Yet I learned everything I know about mothering from her. What did I learn? As a Mommy...You are always there. You are always someone to count on. You love me when I don't love myself. You believe in me when everyone else has given up on me. That's the kind of Mommy she was. A present Mommy. A visible Mommy. A "drive you to horseback riding" Mommy. A "I'll ride the chair lift to see you at your first ski race (even though I am TERRIFIED of heights)" Mommy. A worrying Mommy. An "I can tell you are unhappy, even if you won't tell me" Mommy. An "I'm so proud of you I can't stand it!" Mommy. A make a great meal Mommy. An unbelievably unselfish Mommy.
You only get one Mommy, and she was mine.
She tried to be the best Mommy she could be, even though her own Mom's parenting style left her feeling invisible and unworthy. She and her Mom didn't always get along or agree on how much suppport and love was needed. Yet I was so cherished that she dug deep to leave old role models behind and forge a new path of parenting with love. She wanted me desperately, just like I wanted the two of you. I never really got how deep and wide and tall and strong her love for me really was until I had you. After all..
We never know the love of a parent until we become parents ourselves.
-Henry Ward Beecher
When I look back at the old photographs of when I was preganant with you both, my face glistens with great joy and pure terror. I wanted you so badly, but I also felt so unsure about how to
love you in a way you would both feel deeply loved, unconditionally loved...just as you are. It is not an understatement to say that you two are very different. You were different as babies, different as little girls, different as teenagers and young women and different as adult young women. And while in some ways you are both like me, you are also both your own unique blend of your father as well.
What I know for sure is that I love, love, LOVE your differences. I love that you are uniquely yourselves. I truly believe that you are each God's miracle and He made you for a plan that would be truly your own.
Where you are both so similar is how much you love and adore and are there for your own children. You love them with a passion you never knew you had. You love them and adore them and would give your life for them in a second, because they are your heart. You know what it is to love unselfishly because of them.
What you couldn't know when you were little but perhaps know now more clearly, since you are both Mommies, is that I love you both the same way you love your children. Jessi, when you were born, I loved you with my whole heart. Amy, when you were born, God grew a whole new heart inside me to love you equally. Having you both has been life's greatest blessing and I cannot for one instant imagine my life without you.
I loved having your friends over to our home to play. I loved reading you stories at night. I loved listening endlessly to the "programs" you put on and the plays you concocted. I loved decorating your lunch bags and putting notes in them or decorating where you ate your breakfast and leaving you cards. I loved the thousands and thousands and thousands of miles I logged carting you to and from activities you were in. I loved sitting at those activities and watching you shine. I loved listening to your chatter in the car since I learned so much about you in those times when I was the invisible driver. I loved putting a cold compress on your forehead when you were sick and holding you when your heart was broken. I loved sending you care packages at Camp Reed so you would have some fun treats while you were there. I loved watching your friends like a hawk to see who was healthy for you to be around. I loved saying "Yes, you can!" and I even loved saying "no, you can't"...even when it might make you cry or be mad at me. I loved watching how smart you were in school and meeting with your teachers at parent conferences. I loved standing up for you and being there for you...no matter what. I loved telling you I loved you and telling you how important it was for you to love yourself. I loved helping you when you were in a jam. I loved not giving up on you when times got tough. I didn't give up on you then and I will never, ever give up on you now. Not ever. I loved teaching you manners and how to treat people in a loving way, with respect, no matter what. I loved showing you that every person is God's child and that being "different" is okay, and that differences were to be loved and appreciated. I loved telling you that God loved you and would always be with you, no matter what.
I loved every minute of being your Mommy THEN, and I love every minute of being your Mommy NOW.
I cannot believe that in a blink of an eye, you are both grown up, both amazing and giving people, both great daughters and family members, both so smart, both wonderful teachers and both have the beloved title of being a Mommy yourself.
I wanted you to hear how important this role is from someone besides me. Kelly Corrigan does an amazing job talking about parenthood being the great adventure:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vYmQs8bs1cY
(Thank you to my dear friend Vicky Westra for sharing this with me! :) )
But this journey to parenthood has not always been easy. While you have both had great JOYS in your life, I also know that life has not always been easy for either of you. That's how life is, a mixture of great joy and also great pain. Yet as hard as it has been for me to watch these "toughest times," what I know for sure is that some of your most important learnings come when things fall apart, when there are shipwreck moments in your life. Moments that things are torn apart, the very fabric of your being. Moments that what you thought would always be there would be gone. Moments when you could feel your heart breaking. Moments when you would want to give up. Moments when you wondered if there was a God and where the heck was He. If you had not had some of these moments yourself, you could never understand or empathize with your children when they have these moments. Your great pain is a teaching tool for when they have great pain, and they have and they will.
One of the hardest parts of being a Mommy, for me, has been when what I have said or done caused
pain for each of you. Moments when you were so mad at me you wanted to cover your ears when I told you what the truth looked like to me. When I told you what was on my heart. When I put conflicts out on the table with each of you.
As your Mom, I have tried to be authentic and real even though I wasn't parented that way. While I have told you thousands of times that I love you, I have also told you some things that have been hard to hear. It was never my goal to hurt you, rather to help you grow into who God meant you to be.
We are all broken. We are all imperfect. I certainly am. As I look back at being your Mom, there are some things I would do differently. But what I wouldn't change for a minute is how much I love you.
I am in awe of the kind of Mommy you each are. While at times your parenting styles are as different as you are, what remains the same is the deep, deep connection you have with your children. You are their safe place to fall. They feel so loved by you, adored by you, seen by you. You have real heart-to-heart talks with them. You listen to them. You are there for them. You have fun with them. You role model a deep kind of courage that will sustain them in their own shipwreck moments.
How blessed I was to have a Mommy who loved me. How blessed I am to be your Mommy and love you. And what a blessing it is to see you be a Mommy and love your sweet children, with your whole heart. I am so proud of you for the kind of women you are, and for the kind of Mommy you are to each of your babies.
Happy Mother's Day, Jessi and Amy. I will love you forever. I will like you for always. For as long as I'm living (and beyond) my babies you'll be.
Love you to the moon and back!
Your Momma
-Elizabeth Stone
A Letter to My Daughters Who Have Children of Their Own:
Dearest Jessi and Amy,
I have barely touched the keyboard of this computer and already tears are streaming down my face.
I am sitting here with my first cup of coffee, listening to the rain fall. Mother's day is almost here. It is right around the corner, and I want to write you a letter. There is so much I want you to know. So much I want to share from my heart-of-hearts. It's all about my Mommy, being your Mommy, and watching the two of you be a mommy to my precious grandbabies.
Just the thought of Mother's Day, without having my own Mom here, leaves me being one.hot.mess.
I can't imagine not hearing her voice ever again or listening to her wisdom. Or knowing that she has my back, no matter what. I miss her every day. I never knew that when she was gone, the hole that was left would seem impossible for anyone else to fill.
I had no idea, since she and I were so different, that I would miss every "different" thing about her that used to make me so irritated at times that I thought my head would surely spin off.
She and I didn't always have an easy or comfortable relationship, but every single day I knew that she loved me more than anything else in the world. How she expressed it wasn't always my love language, but we didn't even know what "love languages' were back then. She carried her mottled copy of Dr. Spock's Guide to Raising Children everywhere. He was the wisdom in her corner when all else failed. So even though from time to time we missed each other as meanings flew by and connections sometimes weren't made, we both tried. We were "cut out of different cloth," she and I.
Yet, in spite of every difference...she was my anchor, my supporter, the one I would call when everything fell apart. She found it difficult to share emotions and I was usually a puddle of every emotion conceivable.
Yet I learned everything I know about mothering from her. What did I learn? As a Mommy...You are always there. You are always someone to count on. You love me when I don't love myself. You believe in me when everyone else has given up on me. That's the kind of Mommy she was. A present Mommy. A visible Mommy. A "drive you to horseback riding" Mommy. A "I'll ride the chair lift to see you at your first ski race (even though I am TERRIFIED of heights)" Mommy. A worrying Mommy. An "I can tell you are unhappy, even if you won't tell me" Mommy. An "I'm so proud of you I can't stand it!" Mommy. A make a great meal Mommy. An unbelievably unselfish Mommy.
You only get one Mommy, and she was mine.
She tried to be the best Mommy she could be, even though her own Mom's parenting style left her feeling invisible and unworthy. She and her Mom didn't always get along or agree on how much suppport and love was needed. Yet I was so cherished that she dug deep to leave old role models behind and forge a new path of parenting with love. She wanted me desperately, just like I wanted the two of you. I never really got how deep and wide and tall and strong her love for me really was until I had you. After all..
We never know the love of a parent until we become parents ourselves.
-Henry Ward Beecher
When I look back at the old photographs of when I was preganant with you both, my face glistens with great joy and pure terror. I wanted you so badly, but I also felt so unsure about how to
love you in a way you would both feel deeply loved, unconditionally loved...just as you are. It is not an understatement to say that you two are very different. You were different as babies, different as little girls, different as teenagers and young women and different as adult young women. And while in some ways you are both like me, you are also both your own unique blend of your father as well.
What I know for sure is that I love, love, LOVE your differences. I love that you are uniquely yourselves. I truly believe that you are each God's miracle and He made you for a plan that would be truly your own.
Where you are both so similar is how much you love and adore and are there for your own children. You love them with a passion you never knew you had. You love them and adore them and would give your life for them in a second, because they are your heart. You know what it is to love unselfishly because of them.
What you couldn't know when you were little but perhaps know now more clearly, since you are both Mommies, is that I love you both the same way you love your children. Jessi, when you were born, I loved you with my whole heart. Amy, when you were born, God grew a whole new heart inside me to love you equally. Having you both has been life's greatest blessing and I cannot for one instant imagine my life without you.
I loved having your friends over to our home to play. I loved reading you stories at night. I loved listening endlessly to the "programs" you put on and the plays you concocted. I loved decorating your lunch bags and putting notes in them or decorating where you ate your breakfast and leaving you cards. I loved the thousands and thousands and thousands of miles I logged carting you to and from activities you were in. I loved sitting at those activities and watching you shine. I loved listening to your chatter in the car since I learned so much about you in those times when I was the invisible driver. I loved putting a cold compress on your forehead when you were sick and holding you when your heart was broken. I loved sending you care packages at Camp Reed so you would have some fun treats while you were there. I loved watching your friends like a hawk to see who was healthy for you to be around. I loved saying "Yes, you can!" and I even loved saying "no, you can't"...even when it might make you cry or be mad at me. I loved watching how smart you were in school and meeting with your teachers at parent conferences. I loved standing up for you and being there for you...no matter what. I loved telling you I loved you and telling you how important it was for you to love yourself. I loved helping you when you were in a jam. I loved not giving up on you when times got tough. I didn't give up on you then and I will never, ever give up on you now. Not ever. I loved teaching you manners and how to treat people in a loving way, with respect, no matter what. I loved showing you that every person is God's child and that being "different" is okay, and that differences were to be loved and appreciated. I loved telling you that God loved you and would always be with you, no matter what.
I loved every minute of being your Mommy THEN, and I love every minute of being your Mommy NOW.
I cannot believe that in a blink of an eye, you are both grown up, both amazing and giving people, both great daughters and family members, both so smart, both wonderful teachers and both have the beloved title of being a Mommy yourself.
I wanted you to hear how important this role is from someone besides me. Kelly Corrigan does an amazing job talking about parenthood being the great adventure:
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=vYmQs8bs1cY
(Thank you to my dear friend Vicky Westra for sharing this with me! :) )
But this journey to parenthood has not always been easy. While you have both had great JOYS in your life, I also know that life has not always been easy for either of you. That's how life is, a mixture of great joy and also great pain. Yet as hard as it has been for me to watch these "toughest times," what I know for sure is that some of your most important learnings come when things fall apart, when there are shipwreck moments in your life. Moments that things are torn apart, the very fabric of your being. Moments that what you thought would always be there would be gone. Moments when you could feel your heart breaking. Moments when you would want to give up. Moments when you wondered if there was a God and where the heck was He. If you had not had some of these moments yourself, you could never understand or empathize with your children when they have these moments. Your great pain is a teaching tool for when they have great pain, and they have and they will.
One of the hardest parts of being a Mommy, for me, has been when what I have said or done caused
pain for each of you. Moments when you were so mad at me you wanted to cover your ears when I told you what the truth looked like to me. When I told you what was on my heart. When I put conflicts out on the table with each of you.
As your Mom, I have tried to be authentic and real even though I wasn't parented that way. While I have told you thousands of times that I love you, I have also told you some things that have been hard to hear. It was never my goal to hurt you, rather to help you grow into who God meant you to be.
We are all broken. We are all imperfect. I certainly am. As I look back at being your Mom, there are some things I would do differently. But what I wouldn't change for a minute is how much I love you.
I am in awe of the kind of Mommy you each are. While at times your parenting styles are as different as you are, what remains the same is the deep, deep connection you have with your children. You are their safe place to fall. They feel so loved by you, adored by you, seen by you. You have real heart-to-heart talks with them. You listen to them. You are there for them. You have fun with them. You role model a deep kind of courage that will sustain them in their own shipwreck moments.
How blessed I was to have a Mommy who loved me. How blessed I am to be your Mommy and love you. And what a blessing it is to see you be a Mommy and love your sweet children, with your whole heart. I am so proud of you for the kind of women you are, and for the kind of Mommy you are to each of your babies.
Happy Mother's Day, Jessi and Amy. I will love you forever. I will like you for always. For as long as I'm living (and beyond) my babies you'll be.
Love you to the moon and back!
Your Momma
Friday, May 02, 2014
Fridays' Favorite Quote...Purpose and Passion
Finding your real purpose or passion
is like searching all over the house for your car keys, only to discover that they were in your hand the whole time.
I find, as I get older, that there are more moments where what I am looking for is right on me or right in front of me. It makes my family chuckle when I say, after frantically digging through my purse like a squirrel diving for long-lost nuts, "I'm looking for my glasses." One of my precious grandchildren may comment, ever so sweetly, "Nana, they're on your head"...and then we all have a good laugh.
Right there.
Right in front of me
On my head the whole time.
I met a man named James yesterday at the college where I teach. He's an African American man who is probably in his
mid to late seventies. He exudes wisdom, although he is far too humble to imagine that his words are so powerful. He told me he was back in school because after working hard his whole life, and retiring from three jobs, he was bored. He said he had learned early in life that what makes you happy and brings passion to your life may be what you do every day.
But the "take home" was this...you are so busy doing it that you forget to enjoy it. You don't even realize you are doing your passion..the thing that makes your heart sing, that brings you an unending well of joy.
James said he lost his purpose and lost this passion staying home. "You can only catch so many fish, before you'll start to lose your mind," he said with a grin that enchanted everyone, old and young, sitting at our table.
So James said to himself, "Self, go do somethin' about this. Get it back!" He said his passion had been his job, but he didn't appreciate it until it was gone. Now learning and being a college student was his passion.
But he said he had a confession to make. He just didn't understand us "college folks". He talked about how busy
everyone was here at the college, how we all seemed to rush so fast and do so much. He wondered, with the innocent wondering of a child, if maybe we were missing the point of being alive...
It's possible to be so busy doing life, that we miss really living life.
It's Friday and I have a long "to-do" list. Yet the weather forecast calls for sunny skies and temperatures around 70. Perhaps today I'll set that list aside, if only momentarily. Friday, May 2nd might be better spent with experiencing my passion and purpose.... to love and enjoy this day, and all the people in it, as if it was my last day on earth. To relish that which is in front of me. No need to search high and low. It's right there in plain sight.
Thanks for the reminder, James!
Have a great and glorious day. Let's all slow down and enjoy with every fiber of our being all the good things that are right in front of us.
God Bless!
Love Linda
is like searching all over the house for your car keys, only to discover that they were in your hand the whole time.
I find, as I get older, that there are more moments where what I am looking for is right on me or right in front of me. It makes my family chuckle when I say, after frantically digging through my purse like a squirrel diving for long-lost nuts, "I'm looking for my glasses." One of my precious grandchildren may comment, ever so sweetly, "Nana, they're on your head"...and then we all have a good laugh.
Right there.
Right in front of me
On my head the whole time.
I met a man named James yesterday at the college where I teach. He's an African American man who is probably in his
mid to late seventies. He exudes wisdom, although he is far too humble to imagine that his words are so powerful. He told me he was back in school because after working hard his whole life, and retiring from three jobs, he was bored. He said he had learned early in life that what makes you happy and brings passion to your life may be what you do every day.
But the "take home" was this...you are so busy doing it that you forget to enjoy it. You don't even realize you are doing your passion..the thing that makes your heart sing, that brings you an unending well of joy.
James said he lost his purpose and lost this passion staying home. "You can only catch so many fish, before you'll start to lose your mind," he said with a grin that enchanted everyone, old and young, sitting at our table.
So James said to himself, "Self, go do somethin' about this. Get it back!" He said his passion had been his job, but he didn't appreciate it until it was gone. Now learning and being a college student was his passion.
But he said he had a confession to make. He just didn't understand us "college folks". He talked about how busy
everyone was here at the college, how we all seemed to rush so fast and do so much. He wondered, with the innocent wondering of a child, if maybe we were missing the point of being alive...
It's possible to be so busy doing life, that we miss really living life.
It's Friday and I have a long "to-do" list. Yet the weather forecast calls for sunny skies and temperatures around 70. Perhaps today I'll set that list aside, if only momentarily. Friday, May 2nd might be better spent with experiencing my passion and purpose.... to love and enjoy this day, and all the people in it, as if it was my last day on earth. To relish that which is in front of me. No need to search high and low. It's right there in plain sight.
Thanks for the reminder, James!
Have a great and glorious day. Let's all slow down and enjoy with every fiber of our being all the good things that are right in front of us.
God Bless!
Love Linda
Wednesday, April 30, 2014
Wednesday's Motto for Wholehearted Living...a visit to the doctor
"Life should not be a journey to the grave with
the intention of arriving safely in an attractive
and well-preserved body, but rather to skid in
sideways, chocolate in one hand, espresso in the other, body thoroughly used up, totally worn out and screaming...
"Whoo Hoo, what a ride!"
Every time I looked at my calendar and came upon the date, April 28th, I got a pit in my stomach. Sometime back I had a major trip to the ER regarding some heart issues, and yesterday I had a three hour "How are you really doing?"appointment with a cardiologist. I'm a tough cookie, but I was nervous playing out the what ifs. I thought often about my dear friend Vicky Westra who goes through these appointments on a regular basis. I love how she describes herself..."Healthy with a side of cancer!"While she sees gratitude at every turn, I'm sure she too, from time to time, gets a little queazy at the possibilities.
So, I pretended I was Vicky (no, I am not making this up), trying to see gratitude that no, I hadn't had a heart attack and yes, there were options that in all probability would help things to get better. I even sang the song from the musical, The King and I, that went...
Whenever I feel afraid
I hold my head erect
And whistle a happy tune
So no one will suspect
I'm afraid...
Hear the vintage version for yourself:)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8Up4mbHD1CU
The appointment, while not easy and full of opportunities for some radical life changes, went without a hitch. I came home, more emotionally exhausted than physically exhausted, and plunked myself in the sun on the bench in front of our home, next to my beloved Bert.
I put my head on his shoulder and the tears started to flow. I whispered that I was scared, and he held my hand. I talked about Vicky and told him I had pretended to be her, looking for the blessings. He didn't laugh at me, he merely smiled.
I told him that I was afraid that my physical heart might not be up to speed for the journey of wholehearted living I wanted to engage in.
What if...
what if I wasn't going to be able to skid in sideways, chocolate in one hand and espresso in the other.
What if...
what if?
Bert rubbed my back, gave me a kiss, did some breathing with me and then said,
"Oh, by the way...a card arrived for you today in the mail. It's from Minnesota."
I knew instantly who it was from. As I opened the card I was met with a card filled with JOY...a series of beautifully painted art pieces, made by precious grade school children.
Guess what they drew? HEARTS... a series of beautiful hearts!
I knew it was no accident. It was no accident that the card arrived on the 28th. It was no accident that it came from sweet Vicky. It was no accident that she picked a card filled with glorious hearts!
I instantly knew..."All shall be well!" Thank you, dear friend. I knew that whatever was on the horizon health-wise for me, that I wouldn't be alone. That God would be with me.
It would be okay. I finally could take a deep breath and I felt a peace come over me.
All shall be well, dear Vicky. Thanks for reminding me.
I love you to the moon and back!
and God Bless the rest of you too! :)
Linda
the intention of arriving safely in an attractive
and well-preserved body, but rather to skid in
sideways, chocolate in one hand, espresso in the other, body thoroughly used up, totally worn out and screaming...
"Whoo Hoo, what a ride!"
Every time I looked at my calendar and came upon the date, April 28th, I got a pit in my stomach. Sometime back I had a major trip to the ER regarding some heart issues, and yesterday I had a three hour "How are you really doing?"appointment with a cardiologist. I'm a tough cookie, but I was nervous playing out the what ifs. I thought often about my dear friend Vicky Westra who goes through these appointments on a regular basis. I love how she describes herself..."Healthy with a side of cancer!"While she sees gratitude at every turn, I'm sure she too, from time to time, gets a little queazy at the possibilities.
So, I pretended I was Vicky (no, I am not making this up), trying to see gratitude that no, I hadn't had a heart attack and yes, there were options that in all probability would help things to get better. I even sang the song from the musical, The King and I, that went...
Whenever I feel afraid
I hold my head erect
And whistle a happy tune
So no one will suspect
I'm afraid...
Hear the vintage version for yourself:)
https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=8Up4mbHD1CU
The appointment, while not easy and full of opportunities for some radical life changes, went without a hitch. I came home, more emotionally exhausted than physically exhausted, and plunked myself in the sun on the bench in front of our home, next to my beloved Bert.
I put my head on his shoulder and the tears started to flow. I whispered that I was scared, and he held my hand. I talked about Vicky and told him I had pretended to be her, looking for the blessings. He didn't laugh at me, he merely smiled.
I told him that I was afraid that my physical heart might not be up to speed for the journey of wholehearted living I wanted to engage in.
What if...
what if I wasn't going to be able to skid in sideways, chocolate in one hand and espresso in the other.
What if...
what if?
Bert rubbed my back, gave me a kiss, did some breathing with me and then said,
"Oh, by the way...a card arrived for you today in the mail. It's from Minnesota."
I knew instantly who it was from. As I opened the card I was met with a card filled with JOY...a series of beautifully painted art pieces, made by precious grade school children.
Guess what they drew? HEARTS... a series of beautiful hearts!
I knew it was no accident. It was no accident that the card arrived on the 28th. It was no accident that it came from sweet Vicky. It was no accident that she picked a card filled with glorious hearts!
I instantly knew..."All shall be well!" Thank you, dear friend. I knew that whatever was on the horizon health-wise for me, that I wouldn't be alone. That God would be with me.
It would be okay. I finally could take a deep breath and I felt a peace come over me.
All shall be well, dear Vicky. Thanks for reminding me.
I love you to the moon and back!
and God Bless the rest of you too! :)
Linda
Friday, April 25, 2014
Friday's Favorite Quote...
Do you still believe?
The work will wait until you show the child the rainbow,
but the rainbow won't wait until the work is done.
-Patricia Clifford
One of the things I love the most about my husband Bert is that he appreciates
even the smallest daily miracle.
He will stop me in my tracks and almost whisper...
" Honey, stop, look. See how the light creates shadows on our back studio?"
" Honey, stop, look. Hear the children next door on the swings.
Isn't their laughter magical?"
" Honey, stop, look. Look at that sunset. Doesn't it just take your breath away?
" Honey, stop, look. Look how that tiny daffodil is peeking through the crack in the rock!"
Bert sees the smallest sight, smell, or sound as a gift for his senses. He takes them all in. Breathes them all in. He relishes the gifts that God gives him every day. He'll stop what he is doing in the yard when the cats come from next door and plop down next to him. He'll refill the water bowl he has for them in the garden and then sit and watch them lap up the water with great abandonment. He doesn't miss the small moments. They bring him joy.
He doesn't miss the precious daily gifts because he slows life down to stop and look at them .
Even going to the grocery store can be a journey in fun and frolic. Bert can get lost in the organic food aisle appreciating the farmer who grew a crop. He'll comment on the rainbow of colors in the vegetables on display. He'll breathe in deeply the smell of the newly baked french bread, every whiff a delight.
Bert is known to comment, after I fix a meal for him, that this is the best soup he has ever tasted. And he means it. He is so in that moment that he cannot imagine anything could taste better. He has never, in our thirty years of marriage, left a table without thanking me for cooking for him.
"Honey... stop, look..."
I marvel at Bert's wonder at life, how he appreciates the taste of every lick of an ice cream cone.
When he's with our grandchildren, you may find him on the ground with them watching an ant crawl across the driveway. Or they'll see him pick up a worm that got stuck on the sidewalk and take it to safer ground. Or they'll see him take a bird who flew into a window and make a nest where it can recover.
"Honey, stop, look..."
Bert knows in his deepest heart of hearts that there are more days behind him than in front of him. He knows when he takes my hand and gently caresses it that there are fewer days to be hand holding. He knows when I am rushing down the hall, intent on doing something and he grabs me and twirls me and gives me a huge kiss, that there are fewer days to be kissing your beloved. He knows when he puts on gospel music on a Sunday before church and he grabs me
for a last minute dance with him, that there are fewer days left for dancing.
He doesn't want to waste a moment, because he knows that every moment is precious.
It's a gift from the great Father. It's a gift to be appreciated. He will, until his last moment here, soak it all in.
He's so wise because he knows that work will wait. He knows that the precious moment in front of him may be gone in a heartbeat.
"Honey, stop, look..."
How grateful I am to live with this man.
To be kissed by this man.
To dance with this man.
To watch him with our precious grand babies.
God must smile when he sees how Bert loves His creation, even the tiniest worm.
"Honey, stop, look..."
Thanks for making me stop and look, my precious husband. Thank you for helping me to slow down and see the gifts right in front of me. I love you with all my heart!
God Bless!
Linda
The work will wait until you show the child the rainbow,
but the rainbow won't wait until the work is done.
-Patricia Clifford
One of the things I love the most about my husband Bert is that he appreciates
even the smallest daily miracle.
He will stop me in my tracks and almost whisper...
" Honey, stop, look. See how the light creates shadows on our back studio?"
" Honey, stop, look. Hear the children next door on the swings.
Isn't their laughter magical?"
" Honey, stop, look. Look at that sunset. Doesn't it just take your breath away?
" Honey, stop, look. Look how that tiny daffodil is peeking through the crack in the rock!"
Bert sees the smallest sight, smell, or sound as a gift for his senses. He takes them all in. Breathes them all in. He relishes the gifts that God gives him every day. He'll stop what he is doing in the yard when the cats come from next door and plop down next to him. He'll refill the water bowl he has for them in the garden and then sit and watch them lap up the water with great abandonment. He doesn't miss the small moments. They bring him joy.
He doesn't miss the precious daily gifts because he slows life down to stop and look at them .
Even going to the grocery store can be a journey in fun and frolic. Bert can get lost in the organic food aisle appreciating the farmer who grew a crop. He'll comment on the rainbow of colors in the vegetables on display. He'll breathe in deeply the smell of the newly baked french bread, every whiff a delight.
Bert is known to comment, after I fix a meal for him, that this is the best soup he has ever tasted. And he means it. He is so in that moment that he cannot imagine anything could taste better. He has never, in our thirty years of marriage, left a table without thanking me for cooking for him.
"Honey... stop, look..."
I marvel at Bert's wonder at life, how he appreciates the taste of every lick of an ice cream cone.
When he's with our grandchildren, you may find him on the ground with them watching an ant crawl across the driveway. Or they'll see him pick up a worm that got stuck on the sidewalk and take it to safer ground. Or they'll see him take a bird who flew into a window and make a nest where it can recover.
"Honey, stop, look..."
Bert knows in his deepest heart of hearts that there are more days behind him than in front of him. He knows when he takes my hand and gently caresses it that there are fewer days to be hand holding. He knows when I am rushing down the hall, intent on doing something and he grabs me and twirls me and gives me a huge kiss, that there are fewer days to be kissing your beloved. He knows when he puts on gospel music on a Sunday before church and he grabs me
for a last minute dance with him, that there are fewer days left for dancing.
He doesn't want to waste a moment, because he knows that every moment is precious.
It's a gift from the great Father. It's a gift to be appreciated. He will, until his last moment here, soak it all in.
He's so wise because he knows that work will wait. He knows that the precious moment in front of him may be gone in a heartbeat.
"Honey, stop, look..."
How grateful I am to live with this man.
To be kissed by this man.
To dance with this man.
To watch him with our precious grand babies.
God must smile when he sees how Bert loves His creation, even the tiniest worm.
"Honey, stop, look..."
Thanks for making me stop and look, my precious husband. Thank you for helping me to slow down and see the gifts right in front of me. I love you with all my heart!
God Bless!
Linda
Tuesday, April 22, 2014
Manners, Tact and Graciousness...Oh my...
We have enough people who
tell it like it is-now we could use
a few who tell it like it can be.
-Robert Orben
Update- July 6th: It's amazing how God works and prayers are answered. Thank you to all of you who prayed for me and for my student. After lots
of love and positive attention, All is Well!
I came home today with a heavy heart. Truthfully, I just felt discouraged.
Teaching is a very hard job. It's wonderful and I love it and some days it can just
"Take the stuffing right out of you," as my Grandma used to say. She was an
elementary teacher and believe me those folks are angels! Now please don't misunderstand me. I have so many amazing, bright, empathic, caring and energetic students. Most of them are. I love working with them and I leave those encounters feeling encouraged and energized.
And then there are a few others who literally are so hurt themselves that they
inflict hurt on others. All the caring in the world hits against a defensive exterior
that throws back insults and anger. One of those encounters left me scratching my
head today. Words are powerful. They can do great good or they can hurt. Teacher's words can hurt students, but student's words to teachers can also hurt.
I have taught for a long, long time (48 years total and 38 years at this college) and not very much anymore throws me for a loop. However, the words of a student today left me speechless. Stunned. Shocked. And what was saddest of all, was when I tried to explain that you just don't communicate to your teacher in such an insulting way, the student had no idea that their communication and use of language was inappropriate.
It left me wondering if the gap between where I am and how I was raised and where this student is coming from is SO great that there is no way to cross the divide into understanding. Could that possibly be?
I wasn't sure if I was over-reacting, so I mentioned the student's comments, without telling their name, to several colleagues. They all looked at me in horror.
We have recently had a rash of students making inappropriate comments, even threats to teachers, in some of our classes. All in the name of "I'm just telling it like it is!"
One dear friend, who loves teaching and gets along well with a variety of students, looked at me stunned, almost breathless after I told him what happened and he said, "We've come to this? Common manners and graciousness and tact have left the building!"
I am so torn about how to reach this student. I have been praying about it all day long.
I am seeking God's guidance about what to do and what to say. The student is lost and hurting, but I also have to have boundaries about what is appropriate. I appreciate the desire to tell it like it is, but telling it like it is and doing so in a positive manner is what my classes are all about.
Could I ask you to please pray for me that I might know what to say and do to help this student? Could I ask you to pray for their hurting heart? I would so appreciate your prayers!
Thanks for listening!
God Bless!
Love, Linda
tell it like it is-now we could use
a few who tell it like it can be.
-Robert Orben
Update- July 6th: It's amazing how God works and prayers are answered. Thank you to all of you who prayed for me and for my student. After lots
of love and positive attention, All is Well!
I came home today with a heavy heart. Truthfully, I just felt discouraged.
Teaching is a very hard job. It's wonderful and I love it and some days it can just
"Take the stuffing right out of you," as my Grandma used to say. She was an
elementary teacher and believe me those folks are angels! Now please don't misunderstand me. I have so many amazing, bright, empathic, caring and energetic students. Most of them are. I love working with them and I leave those encounters feeling encouraged and energized.
And then there are a few others who literally are so hurt themselves that they
inflict hurt on others. All the caring in the world hits against a defensive exterior
that throws back insults and anger. One of those encounters left me scratching my
head today. Words are powerful. They can do great good or they can hurt. Teacher's words can hurt students, but student's words to teachers can also hurt.
I have taught for a long, long time (48 years total and 38 years at this college) and not very much anymore throws me for a loop. However, the words of a student today left me speechless. Stunned. Shocked. And what was saddest of all, was when I tried to explain that you just don't communicate to your teacher in such an insulting way, the student had no idea that their communication and use of language was inappropriate.
It left me wondering if the gap between where I am and how I was raised and where this student is coming from is SO great that there is no way to cross the divide into understanding. Could that possibly be?
I wasn't sure if I was over-reacting, so I mentioned the student's comments, without telling their name, to several colleagues. They all looked at me in horror.
We have recently had a rash of students making inappropriate comments, even threats to teachers, in some of our classes. All in the name of "I'm just telling it like it is!"
One dear friend, who loves teaching and gets along well with a variety of students, looked at me stunned, almost breathless after I told him what happened and he said, "We've come to this? Common manners and graciousness and tact have left the building!"
I am so torn about how to reach this student. I have been praying about it all day long.
I am seeking God's guidance about what to do and what to say. The student is lost and hurting, but I also have to have boundaries about what is appropriate. I appreciate the desire to tell it like it is, but telling it like it is and doing so in a positive manner is what my classes are all about.
Could I ask you to please pray for me that I might know what to say and do to help this student? Could I ask you to pray for their hurting heart? I would so appreciate your prayers!
Thanks for listening!
God Bless!
Love, Linda
Sunday, April 20, 2014
Happy Easter! A Big Fall, Jelly Beans, Bunnies and Family Fun...
Life holds so many mysteries. Things happen to you, and when you reflect on them it's easy to stand in amazement at the miracles before you. Thursday was one of those days for me. Let me back up a step...
I love ALL holidays, especially when they offer a chance for our family to get together. I love the planning, the decorating, the purchasing of food, the buying of balloons, the cooking, even the cleaning...all of it that leads up to the arrival of family at our door. The anticipation of seeing my beloveds, and their eyes as they walk in to see the balloons and gifts, just brings me pure JOY! Their smiles, giggles and hugs are all the reward I need. It doesn't matter the holiday, it's a time to celebrate at our home!
This week's holiday is Easter! While Easter has deep spiritual meaning for me, it also has the fun secular meaning of bunnies, jelly beans, dying Easter eggs, and making special Easter baskets for each family member and our close friends and neighbors. I've been hustling and bustling for weeks now. :)
And then Thursday came and with it a totally unexpected accident. I was at the College where I teach and where they had recently "triple-waxed" the floors. Folks there had been slipping and sliding since the start of spring quarter. A bit of an ice rink, if you will. I too had had moments of losing my balance, but this time, right before a meeting, as I came around a corner to come into an office I slipped on the wax and flew up into the air like a rag doll. I hit the ground hard, and my left leg with a knee that had already sustained three surgeries went in a direction it was not supposed to go. I landed all wrong, and hit my head with a loud "SMACK!" on the door jam. I was hurt and could hardly get my breath. Lots of caring folks gathered around, and expressed horror as I crawled along the floor to get into a chair and asses the damage.
Yet all I could think about (said with a big grin several days later) was...how in the world am I going to get our Easter celebration off the ground if I am hurt? How will I see my precious grandchildren gather their Easter eggs if I can't walk? How will all of the jelly beans go into the plastic eggs and the bunnies be put in secret places if I am immobile? True story. I know it seems irrational given the magnitude of the accident, but that was my first thought and prayer. Dear God, please let me be okay so I don't miss the family fun. There are lots of other family legends about the lengths to which I will go to not miss out...flashback to the broken ankle, adult children doing Ironman, I get a scooter incident. But that story is for another day.
As disheveled as I was right after the accident, I was reassuring everyone that I was fine, no sweat, no big deal. I decided to forgo the meeting, go home, ice my knee and ankle and leg and then head off to the doctor. I could hear in my head my Dad's favorite saying when he was alive:
"When the going gets tough, the tough get going!"
Even though I love that saying, I wasn't feeling very tough on Thursday. But while not feeling that vigorous, I was also so, so grateful. No bones were broken. I had, by shear intuition, put on my knee brace that day, so while my knee was bruised and sore, I did not re-rip all the tendons in my knee. I was a bit of a mess, a bruised and hurting mess, but a mess with no serious damage. Thank you, God, for protecting me! That's what was on my lips all night Thursday night, all day Friday and all day Saturday as we readied the yard and got things ready for this morning, Easter morning. A morning of miracles of another kind.
Miracles are happening every day in my life. I just need to open my eyes and see them! Let me be grateful for every one of them!
Now it's Easter morning and I have been up stuffing the plastic eggs that hold jelly beans and a simple, small piece of paper. Surely a different message than the one my dad gave me about being tough, but one I hope my sweet grandchildren will also remember years from now. They may forget the jelly beans, the baskets and the decorations, but I hope their hearts will preserve the message on the paper...
God loves you... and so do we!
Happy Easter from our home to yours! Let the family fun begin!
God Bless!
Love, Linda
I love ALL holidays, especially when they offer a chance for our family to get together. I love the planning, the decorating, the purchasing of food, the buying of balloons, the cooking, even the cleaning...all of it that leads up to the arrival of family at our door. The anticipation of seeing my beloveds, and their eyes as they walk in to see the balloons and gifts, just brings me pure JOY! Their smiles, giggles and hugs are all the reward I need. It doesn't matter the holiday, it's a time to celebrate at our home!
This week's holiday is Easter! While Easter has deep spiritual meaning for me, it also has the fun secular meaning of bunnies, jelly beans, dying Easter eggs, and making special Easter baskets for each family member and our close friends and neighbors. I've been hustling and bustling for weeks now. :)
And then Thursday came and with it a totally unexpected accident. I was at the College where I teach and where they had recently "triple-waxed" the floors. Folks there had been slipping and sliding since the start of spring quarter. A bit of an ice rink, if you will. I too had had moments of losing my balance, but this time, right before a meeting, as I came around a corner to come into an office I slipped on the wax and flew up into the air like a rag doll. I hit the ground hard, and my left leg with a knee that had already sustained three surgeries went in a direction it was not supposed to go. I landed all wrong, and hit my head with a loud "SMACK!" on the door jam. I was hurt and could hardly get my breath. Lots of caring folks gathered around, and expressed horror as I crawled along the floor to get into a chair and asses the damage.
Yet all I could think about (said with a big grin several days later) was...how in the world am I going to get our Easter celebration off the ground if I am hurt? How will I see my precious grandchildren gather their Easter eggs if I can't walk? How will all of the jelly beans go into the plastic eggs and the bunnies be put in secret places if I am immobile? True story. I know it seems irrational given the magnitude of the accident, but that was my first thought and prayer. Dear God, please let me be okay so I don't miss the family fun. There are lots of other family legends about the lengths to which I will go to not miss out...flashback to the broken ankle, adult children doing Ironman, I get a scooter incident. But that story is for another day.
As disheveled as I was right after the accident, I was reassuring everyone that I was fine, no sweat, no big deal. I decided to forgo the meeting, go home, ice my knee and ankle and leg and then head off to the doctor. I could hear in my head my Dad's favorite saying when he was alive:
"When the going gets tough, the tough get going!"
Even though I love that saying, I wasn't feeling very tough on Thursday. But while not feeling that vigorous, I was also so, so grateful. No bones were broken. I had, by shear intuition, put on my knee brace that day, so while my knee was bruised and sore, I did not re-rip all the tendons in my knee. I was a bit of a mess, a bruised and hurting mess, but a mess with no serious damage. Thank you, God, for protecting me! That's what was on my lips all night Thursday night, all day Friday and all day Saturday as we readied the yard and got things ready for this morning, Easter morning. A morning of miracles of another kind.
Miracles are happening every day in my life. I just need to open my eyes and see them! Let me be grateful for every one of them!
Now it's Easter morning and I have been up stuffing the plastic eggs that hold jelly beans and a simple, small piece of paper. Surely a different message than the one my dad gave me about being tough, but one I hope my sweet grandchildren will also remember years from now. They may forget the jelly beans, the baskets and the decorations, but I hope their hearts will preserve the message on the paper...
God loves you... and so do we!
Happy Easter from our home to yours! Let the family fun begin!
God Bless!
Love, Linda
Friday, April 18, 2014
Fun and Faith...a few thoughts on Friday!
Your faith is a living, breathing organism.
It is ALIVE!
God meant for your faith to flow with the realness of your life.
Faith and fun can go hand-in-hand.
God smiles when He sees His precious children
smiling, laughing
and gleefully enjoying the amazing life He created for them.
- Father Arnold, Assumption Parish, Seattle Washington
I grew up in the Catholic Church. I was a Catholic because my Mom and Grandma were Catholics.
That's just what we did. However, since I didn't go to Catholic School and I didn't study Latin, much of the Catholic faith was a mystery to me. In those days, the Bible was in Latin, the songs were in Latin, and quotations were read in Latin. I remember looking at the children my age who did go to school at Assumption Parish and had studied Latin. They seemed to know a secret that was hidden to me.
However, every Saturday morning I went to our Parish Church School to be taught by nuns. I was not a willing participant in this Saturday sojourn to the Parish school. In fact, I hated going there. I was terrified of the nuns hidden in their black habits and mostly somber faces. I was equally terrified of the Priests who seemed to have broken open a code of faith secrets that were alien to me. Most of all, I despised going to confession.
As I knelt down in the Confessional and the screen opened up, just enough so I could see the side profile of the Priest who would hear me recount my sins in great detail, my heart would begin to pound and my skin would begin to sweat. I remember hearing, on many cold and rainy Seattle Saturdays, that there were three places our souls might go when we departed earth. We might go to Heaven. We might go to hell. Or we might go to purgatory. Purgatory, in my memory as a small child, was that in between place of nothingness. Nowhere. Awfulness. Sister Margaret suggested that if we omitted any sins in the Confessional, we might end up in purgatory. I spent many a sleepless Friday night writing down a detailed list of everything I had done wrong, every awful thought I had had, every sin that might keep me from Heaven. When I went into the Confessional, I took my list and dutifully read each item. I always started with...
Oh my Father I am heartfully sorry for having offended Thee
And I confess all my sins expecting Thy just punishment
It has been one week since my last confession.
Here are my sins...
And then with tears racing down my cheeks I fearfully read each item, concluding with
"and for any sins I've forgotten, I am so sorry for those too."
Afterwards the Priest would ask me to pray four "Our Fathers", three "Hail Mary's" and two "Acts of Contrition". Luckily, I was a good memorizer so I could pray them at mock speed so I could go home
to the safety of my bedroom. I thought that being a person of faith was a serious, serious matter. No
smiling, no laughter, no fun.
And then I met Father Arnold...
Before I went into the Confessional on some rare Saturdays, Father Arnold would often walk by and wink at me. He had a sparkle in his eye that told me he was an alive, breathing, normal human being. He always looked like he could start to chuckle any moment. He had laugh lines on his face that looked like the deep valleys my family had visited on vacation trips. He liked us. He liked all of the children from Sister Margaret's class who were waiting in line to go into the Confessional. We liked him too. :)
And he took pity on us and might whisper in our ears something like, "Sister Margaret is a little batty. That's why she hit your hand with that ruler. Pay her no mind." Hearing him say this seemed almost like treason, so we never shared with anyone what Father Arnold had said. One time we heard him laughing so loud out in the hall that we all turned to see what was going on. His laughter sounded like the balm of heaven to our weary ears. He thought loving Jesus was a great thing, a fun thing...something that was joyful!
Until then I never imagined that faith and fun could go hand in hand.
Years later, when I saw the movie "Sister Act", the story line showed real nuns with real emotions,
singing, dancing and expressing real love for God. They reminded me of Father Arnold.
I thought back to Father Arnold and the quotation he had written to me. On a small card. Still kept in my Bible. He told me that Faith and Fun were meant to go together. He also suggested that certainly there were times when faith and sorrow and faith and seriousness were also constant companions, but faith and fun made God smile. I remember it made me smile to imagine God smiling.
Years later, when my faith took a different road from Assumption Parish, and I knew I wouldn't be going back there again to worship, I stopped to see Father Arnold. He was older, but that gleam in his eye was still there. He still winked at me and remembered my name. I told him I had become a Christian, but that some of the early learnings I had about real faith came from the love and kindness he showed me. I told him that he reminded me of what I hoped Jesus would be like, when I saw Him one day, face-to-face in Heaven. I told Him that I wasn't scared about purgatory any more and that I talked to God now, all on my own...all the time. I'd decided that I didn't need a Priest to do that for me. I also told him that if I ever did need a Priest to intercede with God on my behalf, I'd pick him to do it. I told him that his smile and laugh meant the world to me. He smiled, hugged me and whispered, "Linda Marie, God loves you and so do I." I gave him a huge hug and ran out of the church to the waiting car where my Mom sat nervously, wondering why I had to tell Father Arnold I was leaving (she was an avoider of any possible conflict), and my Grandma was in the back seat, praying the Rosary for my soul.
Just recently, I accidentally came across a You Tube offering that showed a Priest, Father Ray Kelly, singing to a couple he was about to marry. It took my breath away. While Father Arnold has since "Gone Home," this Priest on You Tube is the spitting image of him. He has that same twinkle. He brings faith and fun together. Watching this made me laugh, and it made me cry. If Father Arnold was here to see this, it would put a big old grin on His face.
ENJOY!
God Bless!
Love, Linda
Thursday, April 17, 2014
A Profound Mathematical Equation As Easter Approaches...
For me, this equation says it all:
3 Nails
+ 1 Cross
__________________
= 4 Given
And I am so, so grateful! Everything in my life changed once I learned that God loved me and Jesus died for me.
Everything. Changed. As a 9th grade girl at a Young Life Camp,
I heard this astounding message for the very first time. I could hardly believe my ears. I wept then in gratitude. And now, all these years later, I am still brought to tears...knowing of a love so deep and wide that He paid the greatest price. For me. For you. For all of us. The God that created the universe loves me, just as I am.
I am enough for Him. I will never stop being grateful. Just knowing this still changes my life every day!
So in the midst of fun family gatherings this weekend and egg hunts and brunches and church services, all of which bring such JOY to me, may I NEVER forget...
He paid a price with three nail and a cross and I am forgiven.
And all I can say is thank you Lord!
Amen!
Happy Easter, dear ones!
God Bless!
Love, Linda
Sunday, April 13, 2014
Taking My Fear to God...the "What If?" Moments...
Note: Think Ella Fitzgerald or Willie Nelson singing this song...feel free to tap your
foot or move your head or sway back and forth with your eyes closed...
Blue Skies
smiling at me....
Nothing but blue skies
Do I see.
Blue Birds
singing a song
Nothing but blue birds
All day long.
- Lyrics to the song "Blue Skies" written by Irving Berlin, 1926
I love old classic anythings. Classic music, classic clothing, classic furniture, classic literature, classic books you can hold in your hand. I grew up in the age of vinyl records and enduring musicals. As a child I used to put on programs and sing songs like:
"Oklahoma...
where the winds come sweeping down the plains
and the waving wheat can sure smell sweet
when the winds come right behind the rain.
Oklahoma...
every night my honey lamb and I
sit alone and talk
and watch a hawk
making lazy circles in the sky."
Note: This may scare you a bit, but I am remembering these lyrics without having
to look them up! :)
And then...drum roll...from the musical South Pacific (Mary Martin and Enzio Pinza played the leads)
"I'm going to wash that man right out of my hair
I'm going to wash that man right out of my hair
I'm going to was that man right out of my hair
And send him on his way."
Music helps to set my mood. I play it at home, I play it at school.
It can change my attitude in a heart-beat.
Lately I've been working on, praying about, and intentionally seeking, with God's help, to uplift my attitude.
I know that when I worry, or live in fear, my positive attitude and trust in God takes a back seat.
Fear is in the driver seat and my attitude is just a passenger in the vehicle.
I know that "worry isn't prayer,"as my youngest daughter reminds me of that regularly.
I know in my heart-of-hearts that "God's got this!" and I trust that He does.
I know that this is Lent and giving up things and concentrating on what the Lord has done for me often leaves me a bit sad or contemplative.
Yet while I know these things, at times I get stuck in worry.
Even though I know God is in control my mind often races and plants itself into the
"What if ?" moments....
Those "what if?" moments are laced in fear
They often come from wanting to control outcomes
(can I hear an "Amen" on the control issue?)
They often diminish my life and sap my energy.
If my Mom was alive, she'd tell you we come from a long line of "worriers."
It almost sounds like it's genetic. My DNA has fear as a part of its makeup.
That's a nice way of saying that while we talk about trusting God, and come
to Him in prayer, I often take back whatever I've just given Him and say...
"OK, God..I know you are Almighty, the Maker of Heaven and Earth. I know You hold us all in the
palm of Your hand...but I don't think you are big enough or strong enough or wise enough
to handle __________________. (fill in the blank with any problem I worry about and am fearful about)" so I have to take that back and worry and stew about it.
I am sick and tired of doing this.
Let me say that again, with more resolve...
I am sick and tired of doing this!
I've felt led, little-by-little, to take those fear-filled, worry-laced moments to God, give them to Him, and to turn on my prayer life and turn on music that is uplifting and inspiring instead of worrying myself sick.
Music, fun music, gospel music... often seems to lift my life from worry to confidence...
just like that!
I remember when I first sang the song "How Great Thou Art" at Malibu, a Young Life camp. I couldn't stop crying. Tears cascaded down my face. I was in 9th grade, gave my heart to Jesus, and knew He would take me and love me, just as I am. Even when I was a hot mess of fear, He would be there. He IS big enough and great enough to take it all and handle it all. The song goes like this...
Oh Lord my God,
When I in awesome wonder
Consider all
The worlds Thy hands have made.
I see the stars
I hear the rolling thunder
Thy power throughout
the universe displayed.
Then sings my soul
My Savior God to me
How Great Thou Art,
how Great Thou art....
(and thank the Lord, I remember those lyrics as well! They are deep in my heart)
PS- My dear friend Peggy Sue sent this rendition of How Great Thou Art to me. Thanks, Peggy Sue!
Get some kleenex before you watch it. What a blessing!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pLLMzr3PFgk
Easter is next week. It is almost resurrection time. God died for my sins and Jesus rose from the dead
and I don't have to worry or be fearful... God does have this!...
so there, fear and worry... TAKE THAT!
I am praying that God will resurrect my attitude and take it from worry to trust in Him. As the sun shines more and more in Spokane, the clouds roll away, and the blue skies are smiling on me in all their glory...I'll seek to remember where those "Blue Skies" truly come from.
Do you ever worry? Does fear sometimes rule your life? Do you have any tips for how to stop worrying? Please feel free to share them. I'd love any suggestions you use to keep fear and worry in the back seat of the car and having trust in God doing the driving!
God Bless!
Love, Linda
foot or move your head or sway back and forth with your eyes closed...
Blue Skies
smiling at me....
Nothing but blue skies
Do I see.
Blue Birds
singing a song
Nothing but blue birds
All day long.
- Lyrics to the song "Blue Skies" written by Irving Berlin, 1926
I love old classic anythings. Classic music, classic clothing, classic furniture, classic literature, classic books you can hold in your hand. I grew up in the age of vinyl records and enduring musicals. As a child I used to put on programs and sing songs like:
"Oklahoma...
where the winds come sweeping down the plains
and the waving wheat can sure smell sweet
when the winds come right behind the rain.
Oklahoma...
every night my honey lamb and I
sit alone and talk
and watch a hawk
making lazy circles in the sky."
Note: This may scare you a bit, but I am remembering these lyrics without having
to look them up! :)
And then...drum roll...from the musical South Pacific (Mary Martin and Enzio Pinza played the leads)
"I'm going to wash that man right out of my hair
I'm going to wash that man right out of my hair
I'm going to was that man right out of my hair
And send him on his way."
Music helps to set my mood. I play it at home, I play it at school.
It can change my attitude in a heart-beat.
Lately I've been working on, praying about, and intentionally seeking, with God's help, to uplift my attitude.
I know that when I worry, or live in fear, my positive attitude and trust in God takes a back seat.
Fear is in the driver seat and my attitude is just a passenger in the vehicle.
I know that "worry isn't prayer,"as my youngest daughter reminds me of that regularly.
I know in my heart-of-hearts that "God's got this!" and I trust that He does.
I know that this is Lent and giving up things and concentrating on what the Lord has done for me often leaves me a bit sad or contemplative.
Yet while I know these things, at times I get stuck in worry.
Even though I know God is in control my mind often races and plants itself into the
"What if ?" moments....
Those "what if?" moments are laced in fear
They often come from wanting to control outcomes
(can I hear an "Amen" on the control issue?)
They often diminish my life and sap my energy.
If my Mom was alive, she'd tell you we come from a long line of "worriers."
It almost sounds like it's genetic. My DNA has fear as a part of its makeup.
That's a nice way of saying that while we talk about trusting God, and come
to Him in prayer, I often take back whatever I've just given Him and say...
"OK, God..I know you are Almighty, the Maker of Heaven and Earth. I know You hold us all in the
palm of Your hand...but I don't think you are big enough or strong enough or wise enough
to handle __________________. (fill in the blank with any problem I worry about and am fearful about)" so I have to take that back and worry and stew about it.
I am sick and tired of doing this.
Let me say that again, with more resolve...
I am sick and tired of doing this!
I've felt led, little-by-little, to take those fear-filled, worry-laced moments to God, give them to Him, and to turn on my prayer life and turn on music that is uplifting and inspiring instead of worrying myself sick.
Music, fun music, gospel music... often seems to lift my life from worry to confidence...
just like that!
I remember when I first sang the song "How Great Thou Art" at Malibu, a Young Life camp. I couldn't stop crying. Tears cascaded down my face. I was in 9th grade, gave my heart to Jesus, and knew He would take me and love me, just as I am. Even when I was a hot mess of fear, He would be there. He IS big enough and great enough to take it all and handle it all. The song goes like this...
Oh Lord my God,
When I in awesome wonder
Consider all
The worlds Thy hands have made.
I see the stars
I hear the rolling thunder
Thy power throughout
the universe displayed.
Then sings my soul
My Savior God to me
How Great Thou Art,
how Great Thou art....
(and thank the Lord, I remember those lyrics as well! They are deep in my heart)
PS- My dear friend Peggy Sue sent this rendition of How Great Thou Art to me. Thanks, Peggy Sue!
Get some kleenex before you watch it. What a blessing!
http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=pLLMzr3PFgk
Easter is next week. It is almost resurrection time. God died for my sins and Jesus rose from the dead
and I don't have to worry or be fearful... God does have this!...
so there, fear and worry... TAKE THAT!
I am praying that God will resurrect my attitude and take it from worry to trust in Him. As the sun shines more and more in Spokane, the clouds roll away, and the blue skies are smiling on me in all their glory...I'll seek to remember where those "Blue Skies" truly come from.
Do you ever worry? Does fear sometimes rule your life? Do you have any tips for how to stop worrying? Please feel free to share them. I'd love any suggestions you use to keep fear and worry in the back seat of the car and having trust in God doing the driving!
God Bless!
Love, Linda
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